Photos and Article by Elizabeth Miller
My son does not like going to the farmers market. No, let me rephrase that. My son does not like going to the farmers market with me. I can’t blame him, really. When I go to the farmers market, I dawdle. I examine what is offered at each and every stand, and, once I have made my rounds, I double back and revisit each and every stand, silently compiling a meal list in my mind. But this weekend, in an effort to entice my son to visit the market with me, I promised him it would be different. I vowed to make this market visit a surgical strike, to know exactly what I wanted to buy, then blaze in, make my preplanned purchases, and get out.